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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856509">Stuck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedroyaltea/pseuds/frostedroyaltea'>frostedroyaltea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ones Who Wander [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Ghost Hunting, Ghosts, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved, Sequel, Short Chapters, Spirits, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), Unofficial Sequel, somewhat happy ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedroyaltea/pseuds/frostedroyaltea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two new people in the garage. They have strange equipment with them, carrying it in bags. Anatoly knows Veles has a new reputation, has since the moment Fisk closed the car door on his head.</p><p>-</p><p>The two explain the history by the front gates. With them, they brought their sleeping bags, equipment, and vodka. They figured Anatoly had had a liking to it when he was alive.</p><p>As they’re nearing the front there’s a wailing sound coming from the direction of the building. Ryan jumps. “Did you hear that?”</p><p>“It was probably just the wind,” Shane says. </p><p>“I’ve never heard wind that sounds like that. Have you?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ones Who Wander [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this takes place in 2017, about a year before the end of "Some Nights It Gets So Bad"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are two new people in the garage. Anatoly has never seen them before. Then again he doesn’t see much of anyone these days. Everyone had fled after what happened to him, the warehouses.</p><p> </p><p>Volodya hasn’t been by in… it’s been a long time. Anywhere between a few months to a year and a half. Time passes strangely, in this limbo. Anatoly spends most of it in an almost sleep. He isn’t conscious at least, wherever his mind, spirit, is at.</p><p> </p><p>The two have strange equipment with them, carrying it in bags. Anatoly trails one hand on the wall as he walks back to his old office. Nothing about the place has changed since his death. Nothing was moved or added. Teens and reckless adults have broken in, drawn on the walls, played games of truth or dare, tried to call him using candles and ouija boards. That’s the most he had seen.</p><p> </p><p>He knows Veles has a new reputation, has since the moment Fisk closed the car door on his head. Anger curls inside him, screeching at him to be let out. Fisk is in jail though now, where Anatoly can’t reach. One of the men had come back at one point, bearing the news and a bowl of water and cloth. Anatoly appreciated it. He missed seeing familiar faces.</p><p> </p><p>Pain bursts in his head and he doubles over, holding his head, barely holding in the pained howl.</p><p> </p><p>The shorter person jumps at the noise, exclaims something Anatoly can’t quiet her the pain. The tall one scoffs, proclaims that it was nothing, Anatoly can tell by his dismissive tone and waving one of his hands.</p><p> </p><p>All noises Anatoly makes though, they come as breezes, glass rattling gusts of wind, odd creaks in the wood where he walks. He is not quite fully there, after all. </p><p> </p><p>The pain ebbs away and Anatoly tries to find the two new people. They're somewhere near the front, he thinks. Few people venture far enough into the garage to really notice him. He wonders if they will.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The two explain the history by the front gates. With them, they brought their sleeping bags, equipment, and vodka. They figured Anatoly had had a liking to it when he was alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they’re nearing the front there’s a wailing sound coming from the direction of the building. Ryan jumps. “Did you hear that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was probably just the wind,” Shane says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never heard wind that sounds like that. Have you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. During-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I already know what you’re going to say and there are no storms right now. The sky is clear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two edge onward. Ryan eager, Shane also eager but not because of the spirit he knows walks the garage’s halls.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The people have sleeping bags with them. How odd. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly watches them as they explore the face. “Hi,” the short one says, “I’m Ryan. This is Shane.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside they had been explaining the Ranskahov brother’s history. He was shocked at how much they knew. Anatoly hadn’t known that Volodya had almost been killed by a new vigilante or that he had escaped Utkin for a second time. He was wanted now, Anatoly could understand why Volodya hadn’t been by. The police had been keeping a careful eye on the place in past years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They explore the place, looking at the taxies that hadn’t been used in years. The words are still on the sides of the cars though a few letters were peeling at the corners. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The short one brushes a hand along one of the cars.”Did you know Veles is a Slavic god? Do you think they named this place after him on purpose?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had. Not many people picked up on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did not,” Shane, Anatoly thinks, says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Anatoly says, almost absentmindedly. He turns on his heel then freezes. He shifts, turns his head. Shane is looking right at him. Anatoly stares back, shocked, and slowly waves a hand. Shane doesn’t blink, just turns back around and makes some off-handed comment about how the air is chilly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly snorts. It isn’t cold. If anything it’s too hot, not scalding but warm enough to be uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walk away from the taxis and machinery to a clear area on the floor. They’re squatting, Anatoly notices, and he snorts again. “Didn’t wear tracksuits, I see,” he says drly. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear it just got colder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s an old building. It probably does that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s the middle of summer and there’s no AC going. Got an explanation for that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly wanders away, goes to where the man, Aslan, had left the rest of the things he bought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A strange noise draws him back to where the two strangers are. “-and this’ll allow you to talk to us. So if you have anything you want to say now would be a good time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly stops. Squats. He prods the device. The noise is irritating him. He finds the power switch and flicks it. The noise stops and he sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both men are sitting frozen, staring at it. Anatoly rolls his eyes at them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it just malfunctioned?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They open the back and poke around in it and deem it in working order. It gets set back on the ground and turned back on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Turn it off,” Anatoly says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words come out sounding garbled and pierced and Anatoly winces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that Russian?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>from Russia. He probably spoke it here too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did.” Anatoly sits down, stretches out his legs. “Off,” he says in English.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Off? Off what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Device. Off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His words are unintelligible. Anatoly growls and gives the device a stink eye. “What do you want to know?” he asks the two. He figures he may as well attempt conversation. He’s had no one to talk to for years now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shto? What do you think that means?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly doesn’t bother explaining. The device would probably just fuck up his words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone turns the spirit box off and Anatoly sighs a sigh of relief. The thing had been giving him a headache. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You had to have felt that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was probably just a summer breeze.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two talk back and forth, debating his existence. Shane loudly declares ghosts nonexistent and he doesn’t believe any of it. At one point he almost meets Anatoly’s eyes as he’s saying it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had heard you liked vodka. We brought some. I don’t know if it’s good though.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It is. I’ve had that type before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They pour it into a glass and then light three candles. Anatoly takes the glass. Its physical form doesn’t move though the liquid inside ripples. “Thanks,” Anatoly says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you hear that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably just some of the machinery. It’s all rusted, it’s bound to creak in the wind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly lets the glass drop from his hand. It makes a shattering noise but there’s no glass on the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks away, going into his office, leaving the two to wander around, calling out and making conversation with air. He supposes he might be air now. He doesn’t know.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time passes quickly this time around and soon the two are outside his office door. They open it, walk in, and set something on his desk. It’s an ouija board, much like the ones the kids bring with them when they explore the garage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This one feels darker, dangerous. Anatoly shivers and nudges it away with his index finger. He doesn’t even want to touch the thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would this even work? The letters aren’t Russian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you have anything to say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, Anatoly has so much to say. Wants to know if anything’s changed back home, in Russia. America never was his home, even with his brother by his side.  </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What about Vladimir? The people who worked for you? You’ve done bad things.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anatoly knows that. He supposes that’s why he’s stuck here. That or the way he died. He touches a hand to his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know who you are. Why Shane is like that.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Was that your name?” Ryan asks.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It couldn’t have been,” Shane says firmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly presses his lips into a thin smile. Puts his hand on the tear-dropped shaped wood that covers the letters. Forcibly moves the wood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please?” one asks, putting the letters together. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both men are looking at the board. Ryan, puzzled. Shane, frowning. Otherwise, he is expressionless. Anatoly can’t tell what he’s thinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please what?” They both look around the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ready to be alone in here?” Shane asks.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Anatoly thinks he’s trying to avoid something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of them leaves, the other stays. The spirit box is brought out again and Anatoly cringes at the noise. He walks over, grabs it in his hand, and tugs it out of Ryan’s hands and drops it. Anatoly makes a split-second decision and steps on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ear-splitting noise stops and Anatoly breathes a sigh of relief. He collapses on the chair and watches as Ryan mutters, “What the fuck?” and picks up the device. It doesn’t turn on and no amount of poking at the batteries fixes it. “Guess you didn’t like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly looks at one of the cameras. It’s recording. He wonders what he’ll be seen as on the video. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was pretty awful, how you died,” Ryan says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No shit,” Anatoly says. He stands and goes to lean against the wall behind his desk and watches as Ryan wanders the room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I have this different device. It is not annoying so please don’t break it.” He turns on another device, this one does not make the same garbled wailing noise that the spirit box made. “Do you want to talk about why you did what you did in your life?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly doesn’t know. At first, it had been the money but when they had it they kept going, kept climbing their way to the top until they ran the business for themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t seem very dangerous for how you were in life. Or how you died. Me, and a lot of other people included, would be very angry. Why aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One minute left,” Shane calls from outside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryan yells back an affirmative and then goes to look around the room. “Is there anything you’d like to say before I go?” he asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly thinks. “Sorry. Sorry, this happened, to the people I’ve hurt. They didn’t deserve that.” He rubs his eyes, feeling aged and weary. “Sorry to my brother. It’s my fault we ended up like this. And I know you can’t understand me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Anatoly says in English. He wonders if the man will be able to hear him and if he does if he’ll understand him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you say ‘sorry?’ Is that what that was? Can you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opens. “Time’s up! You get anything?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I’ll look later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two exchange places and the door closes behind the shorter man. Shane leans against the desk and looks around the room. “So. You here Anatoly? What did you and Vladimir get up to in here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just want to leave this place,” Anatoly says aloud. It was a thought he rarely voiced. Or would think about, rather. He didn’t have anyone to talk to, have a conversation with. He sighs wearily. “The two of you are so cliche. One believes, one doesn’t. Of course, the one who says he doesn’t believe is the one who attracts spirits.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re here, show yourself. Do something. I don’t know, throw something, move something.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Why would I wreck my office? You know, these one-sided conversations are very annoying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man looks at Anatoly. He swears the man can actually see him though he has no way to tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss my brother,” Anatoly says. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s some strong wind. If only there were</span>
  <em>
    <span> something else</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly glares and snaps, “Are you doing this on purpose!? Egging me on!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands in front of the man. “I know you will not answer. Not with the cameras on. They can’t hear me. No one can.” Anatoly lets out a half laugh, half sob. “I am alone here. Stuck, alone. Can you understand that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re real.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly sighs wearily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just wind in here,” the man says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Anatoly says. The words feel heavy, weighted. They were his dying words, he remembers. Pleading for his life. Wesley had ignored him.</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anatoly goes to the bookshelf. He picks up a book and throws it. Of course, that actual book just flops over onto the ground with a dull thud. Anatoly kicks it and it skids across the floor. The actual thing moved just an inch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man picks up the book, flips through it, and closes it. He sets it on the desk. He looks at his wrist, he’s wearing a watch. The numbers blur, flicker, to Anatoly’s eyes. He can never see any screens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a minute,” the man says. “I’ll wait. I know you aren’t very violent. Mostly just wails, howls. Footsteps. I don’t think you’re real. Ryan does. You give him something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope not.” If Volodya knew he was still here, restless and exhausted, he would be desperate and worn deeper into despair. Anatoly doesn’t want that for Voldoya. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man leaves. “Thought so,” he says as he walks out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time blurs and warps and the two men are laying their sleeping bags out into an emptied office. Looters had stolen everything in it away. His and Volodya’s are still untouched. Their reputations and Anatoly’s ghost had kept them away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two men sleep. Anatoly blinks and the sun is rising and the two are leaving. Ryan calls out a farewell. Anatoly follows them outside. They talk to the camera, the people carrying them mil around, getting footage of the taxis and surrounding buildings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye,” Anatoly says.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The two look at the building one last time then drive away in their car. Their crew leaves after them, all piling into a minivan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anatoly watches them go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the cars disappear from his view he treks back into the garage. His steps are heavy with the weight he’s feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s so tired…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any rest would be a blessing.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will be posting another chapter, kind of like an epilogue to this and Some Nights It Gets So Bad. I will post it when Some Nights It Gets So Bad is complete and all the chapters are published.</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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